


Side Effects

by rachel_exe



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Blow Jobs, Canon Universe, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Potions, Rimming, Scent Kink, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:49:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29964564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachel_exe/pseuds/rachel_exe
Summary: Geralt had just defeated a creature in a sea town when a too familiar bard had approached him on the dock and insisted on travelling with him. Geralt had tried to leave him behind and hide somewhere by himself, potions already taking a toll on him, but Jaskier had insisted, and the wounds were too painful to waste time arguing, so he didn’t stop him when Jaskier followed him around.And that was when a new side effect of the potions started to kick in.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 276





	Side Effects

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bean_writes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bean_writes/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BEAN!! I hope you enjoy this gift from me, I tried to make it as up your alley as possible ;) I can't express enough how much our friendship means to me, it still makes me emo to think about it, I truly appreciate and cherish it, I'm very grateful to have you, thank you for sticking with me even though I know dealing with me isn't always easy, I love you <33  
> Enough with the sappiness now, please enjoy the fic ;)

Geralt hated the way the new potions made him feel. Even if his wounds were healing a lot faster than usual, his senses were so sharp and sensitive they were constantly overloaded with information. When that happened, Geralt usually retreated in a secluded place until he could be around humans without having to cover his nose again. The side effects normally wore off after a few hours, a day at most if the potion was stronger, but this time he didn’t have the luxury to be alone.

He had just defeated a creature in a sea town when a too familiar bard had approached him on the dock and insisted on travelling with him. Geralt had tried to leave him behind and hide somewhere by himself, potions already taking a toll on him, but Jaskier had insisted, and the wounds were too painful to waste time arguing, so he didn’t stop him when Jaskier followed him around. 

And that was when a new side effect of the potions started to kick in. 

He knew he shouldn’t have agreed to be Yennefer’s lab rat to begin with, and he was even more painfully aware of it now that it was the second night he had to sneak away from his camp to jerk off. He had slept countless times next to Jaskier, they often had to share inn rooms or a simple blanket, but never had the bard’s smell affected him like this. 

Jaskier’s scent was a mixture of field flowers, old paper, and ink with a constant and undeniable hint of lust that woke up a part of Geralt the witcher had tried to ignore. Pretending that the thing he had hidden deep inside him wasn’t there was relatively easy, he had been doing it for years. What was absolutely impossible was fighting the heatwave that overpowered his self-control when a whiff of Jaskier’s smell hit his nostrils. 

His body started to burn up, from his groin all the way to the tip of his toes and ears, and nothing was able to placate the desire that built up in him. He had tried to suppress it the previous night, tried to move away from the bard to calm himself down, but every single one of his efforts had been in vain, and in the end he had to sneak away to jerk off. 

The same was happening that night. 

He had hoped the effects of the potions would wear off after two days, but they hadn’t, so when he was sure Jaskier was fast asleep, he found a secluded place in the forest. He hid behind some bushes, and with his back against a tree, he yanked his trousers down and stroked himself with no restraint. 

A groan moved past his gritted teeth, fire burnt inside him as his cock oozed precum. The skin was ablaze and the head an angry red. His hand moved faster and faster, and just like the previous day, he came in less than a minute, hot spurts of cum landing on the foliage on the floor and on his fingers. He huffed, closing his eyes and cursing Yennefer once more, but he barely had the time to think that his cock was getting hard once more, and he had no other choice than to jerk off again. 

  
If Geralt managed to sleep for one hour that night, it was a miracle. He kept turning and tossing in his makeshift bed with Jaskier peacefully snoring next to him and Roach dozing off nearby. He could hear their regular breathing and steady heartbeat, but instead of lulling him to sleep, they only kept him more awake. He was able to close his eyes and finally get a bit of sleep when the sun was rising, but shortly after Jaskier woke up, loudly yawning and huffing while he stretched his back. 

Geralt grunted, shutting his eyes close, wishing he could somehow plug his nose too. 

“Did someone stay up late hunting bugs last night?” Jaskier commented as he stood up. 

Geralt opened one eye to glare at him. “A dragon’s fart is less loud than your snoring.” 

“Sleep deprived really isn’t your best mood,” Jaskier said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure you’d sleep better if we could find a place to stay tonight. At least, I would, I can barely feel my toes with how cold it was last night.” 

Geralt hummed, giving up on sleeping and getting up as well. With the potions still running through his veins, he didn’t even notice the temperature had dropped. Autumn had just begun, but the nights were getting colder by the day, and even the sunlight at times wasn’t enough to warm one up. Sleeping inside would also mean he could hopefully stay away from Jaskier for a few hours, so for once he had to agree with the bard. 

“There should be a town nearby, maybe we can reach it before dawn,” he said. 

“Hurry up then, I’m sure a crowd of people is just waiting for a talented bard like me to entertain them for the evening, and they’ll surely have some coin to spare.” 

Geralt could smell the excitement coming from Jaskier, making his scent even sweeter and filling the air like flowers on a spring day. He huffed as he tried to prevent the scent from filling his nose, but his efforts were in vain and his body was quick to respond to it. 

“I know you always doubt my abilities as a bard,” Jaskier complained. “But no need to be this rude so early in the morning. We should hurry up and get to that town so you can nap a bit and maybe be less cranky. I doubt it since it’s you we’re talking about, but still.” 

Geralt furrowed his brows in confusion before realising Jaskier had misunderstood his body language. He opened his mouth to say something, but a new whiff of Jaskier’s scent invaded his lungs, and he had to bite his tongue and hold his breath not to come on the spot. 

After a breakfast that consisted of stale bread, dried meat, and wild berries, they packed up their things and started their journey. Jaskier walked in front of Geralt, strumming something with his lute, trying out new songs or rehearsing old ones. He was completely absorbed by his music, barely paying attention to his surroundings, so Geralt was able to have a bit of peace of mind. 

So out in the open and with the wind in his favour, Jaskier’s smell was hardly recognisable. He hoped that by the time they got to the town, the potions would wear off and his senses would go back to normal. He didn’t plan on fighting anyone, or at least not a monster that could inflict him potentially deadly wounds, so the potions could safely stay locked in his bag. Not that he would use the garbage Yennefer had made ever again. He’d rather die than suffer through the hell he was experiencing in that moment. 

The sun was at the zenith when they stopped for some lunch. Their supplies hadn’t changed, so they ate stale bread, dried meat, and wild berries again accompanied by the water from a river flowing nearby. Roach was grazing on the grass in the field, but the cold nights were slowly killing it, and many spots were already void of all green. 

“So, any new adventures I should know about?” Jaskier asked as they ate. “Any new heroic gestures I can sing about in my ballads?” 

“No,” Geralt muttered. 

“You’re as fun as always, I see,” Jaskier scoffed. “From what I could see you weren’t doing so great when I met you.” The bard’s gaze followed a bug climbing up a fallen leaf. “Doing better now?” 

“I was doing fine, it was just a scratch.” 

Jaskier turned his head to look at Geralt as if he was a naughty child. “Sure, and I am the king of Nilfgaard. I’ve known you for quite a few years, my dear White Wolf, you can’t fool me like this. Spill it.” 

Geralt bit off a piece of dried meat before replying, “I killed a sea monster but got hurt in the process, so I used the potions Yennefer gave me and now I’m fine.” 

“You went back to see Yennefer?” Jaskier asked, voice unusually bitter. 

“We just crossed paths, nothing more.” 

“And did she just randomly give you those potions?” 

“Apparently.” 

Jaskier hummed, using a stick to poke at the logs in the fire. “Did you do anything else?” 

“No, I didn’t have time for chit chats.” 

“Is that so?” 

Geralt furrowed his brows. “Why do you even care about what me and Yennefer did?” 

Jaskier grunted, throwing the stick into the fire and standing up. “Yeah, why do I even care?” 

Geralt watched him go away, confused more than ever, but he could smell a storm in the air. 

They reached their destination when the sunrays were covering the buildings in an orange hue and candle lights shone in most windows. Jaskier hadn’t talked since lunch, he had been practicing with his lute and had stubbornly refused to even look at Geralt. His behaviour had left Geralt puzzled, he couldn’t understand what was bothering Jaskier, but he knew he would eventually get over it, and if anything, he wasn’t exuding that intoxicatingly sweet scent anymore. 

A cold wind had started blowing, its fingers snaking under Geralt’s shirt. Jaskier was visibly shivering, his clothes were definitely too light for that time of the year, and he now securely kept his hands in the pockets of his trousers. Geralt wasn’t sure he had enough coin on him for a room that night, but he could probably afford a decent meal in a warm place, so he didn’t think twice before stopping in front of the first inn they came across. 

“We can rest here for a while,” he said, giving Roach’s reins to the stable boy. 

Jaskier looked at him first and then at the inn. Geralt had to admit it wasn’t the most luxurious place ever, the stone walls looked old and there were cracks in the windows, but they had slept in worse places, and at least inside the wind wouldn’t be able to torment them as much as it was doing now. 

Jaskier’s train of thought was on the same wavelength as after a few seconds he replied, “Fine.” 

A strong smell of ale, food, and smoke hit Geralt’s nostrils as soon as he stepped foot inside, and he winced at the sudden change in the atmosphere. He had gotten so used to the smell of autumn in the air that it took him a few moments to adjust to the new environment, to the scents coming from all the people in the inn, and to the loud noises momentarily overwhelming his ears. 

He needed a lot less time to grow accustomed to the sideways glances the other patrons were throwing at him. That was always the case when he went to a new inn, people were wary of witchers, and his fame preceded him most of the time. His brows furrowed on instinct, and he tried to ignore the pieces of conversation about him he was picking up, but one voice stood out amongst all others. 

“If that isn’t Jaskier,” someone mumbled before a man sat up from a table and waved his arm. “Jaskier!” 

The witcher and the bard both turned towards the voice, but while Geralt’s gaze portrayed confusion, Jaskier’s lit up at the sight. 

“What are you doing here, Edgar?” Jaskier said, walking towards the man. 

Geralt let him go and sat down at one of the free tables in the shadows, focusing on anything that wasn’t the conversation between Jaskier and his friends, but the task proved to be harder than anticipated when the two didn’t bother to quiet down their voices. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jaskier was saying. 

“I’m stopping here just for tonight, I’m moving south for the winter,” Edgar replied. “What are you up to?” 

“I’m just travelling.” 

“With that witcher?” 

Geralt’s brow twitched at the repulsed tone in the man’s voice. 

“Yes, I’m with him,” Jaskier replied. “We met on the road.” 

“Wait, isn’t he…?”

Geralt’s attention was piqued at the question, and he raised his eyes just in time to see Jaskier looking away while covering his friend’s mouth. 

“Anyway, have you already performed tonight?” Jaskier asked, nervousness clear in his voice. 

“I have, the floor is all yours if you want to. Just ask the old Willy there, and you can sing until the sun rises.” 

“I’ll pay him a visit then, I don’t feel like sitting down right now.” 

Geralt looked in Jaskier’s direction again and watched him approach the old man behind the counter, exchange a few words with him and then move to the middle of the room. The bard from before whistled and cheered him on while Jaskier briefly introduced himself before starting to sing. 

It wasn’t a new scene for Geralt, he had witnessed so many of Jaskier’s impromptu performances that he had lost count, but he silently listened nonetheless. His attention shifted only when a waitress came to ask him what he wanted to eat, but after that, his eyes were once more on the bard. It might have been the potions again that were messing up with how he perceived things, but Jaskier’s voice sounded more melancholic than usual, and a weird sensation tugged at Geralt’s stomach at the thought. 

Jaskier sang for over half an hour, and Geralt never lost sight of him. He had his dinner alone with Jaskier’s voice filling his ears and trying to point out his smell among all the others. It wasn’t a hard task, by now he could recognise it from miles away, but that only increased the uncomfortable feeling that was slowly taking over him. 

When the performance ended, Jaskier collected a few coins and thanked his audience, but instead of walking back to where Geralt was, he sat at the same table as Edgar. He ordered his food and lightly chatted while eating, laughing and smiling at the man sitting next to him. Geralt could catch bits and pieces of their conversation, but he didn’t even want to know what they were talking about. He refused to acknowledge the annoyance burning in his chest, the green-eyed monster lurking behind his heartbeat, and stubbornly stared at the fire cracking in the middle of the room. 

It didn’t take long before the whole situation started to get to him and he decided to leave the main hall. He gathered his bag and swords, but just as he stood up, he heard Jaskier yelp, and he whipped his head towards him. The bard was holding his hand while a knife was at his feet. Edgar quickly took the hand in his own and inspected it closely. 

“Why did you let go of the knife like that?” he said. “You could have hurt yourself.” 

“I wasn’t paying attention to it,” Jaskier mumbled. “I’m not hungry anyway.” 

The other bard moved closer to Jaskier, leaning in front of him, face only a few inches away from Jaskier’s. “You’re pretty pale, maybe you should rest a little. Why don’t we grab something to drink and move to my room?” 

He stroked Jaskier’s hand with a smile too sly for Geralt’s liking, and without thinking twice, the witcher covered the distance between his table and Jaskier’s in a few long strokes. 

“It’s time to go,” he said, making Jaskier jump in his seat. 

“Go where?” the bard asked. “I’m not sleeping outside tonight, and Edgar here is offering me a bed in his room.” 

Geralt’s fists clenched at the words. “We’re getting a room too, c’mon.” 

“Jaskier can sleep with me, I don’t mind,” Edgar replied, smirking. 

“What-,” Jaskier started saying, turning towards his friend, but Geralt quickly interjected. 

“No.” 

“Why not? Can’t sleep without him?” Edgar grinned. 

Geralt glared at him, jaw tight and brows set in a stern line. This man was starting to get under his skin and they both knew it all too well, but he couldn’t lose his composure, people were already throwing worried glances at them, and the last thing he needed was to get thrown out of the inn. 

“Fine, fine, I’m coming with you, Geralt,” Jaskier huffed, breaking the tension in the air. “Sorry, Edgar, he didn’t sleep much last night, so he’s grumpier than usual today.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure he’ll get a good night’s sleep now,” Edgar said, smug. 

Jaskier’s eyes opened wide, and he was about to say something before he changed his mind and bit his lip. He drank the last drops of his ale and stood up, throwing both bag and lute over his shoulders. 

“Well, I’m going now, it was nice seeing you and your big mouth again,” he bitterly said. 

“It was my pleasure, have fun.” 

Edgar winked and Geralt was sure Jaskier was about to say something, but he once more closed his mouth shut and stomped away. The man smiled at Geralt, but the gesture only pissed the witcher off even more. 

When Geralt reached him, Jaskier was already at the counter, tapping his fingers on the wood while waiting for the owner of the inn. They didn’t speak as they both kept an eye on the old man serving a client before he went to greet them. 

“We need two rooms for the night,” Jaskier quickly said without acknowledging Geralt’s presence next to him. 

“One,” Geralt retorted. 

“One,” the owner agreed. “I don’t have other free rooms unless you want to sleep in the stable with the horses.” 

“One it is,” Geralt nodded. 

Jaskier groaned but didn’t protest. 

The room Willy guided them to was small but clean and tidy. There was a double bed, a dresser, and a small table with two chairs, and as soon as the owner lit up the fireplace, the warm hue rendered the atmosphere even more cosy. When Willy left the two of them alone, Geralt placed his bag and swords near the bed and lay down with his armour still on, not wanting to be caught off guard if something happened during the night. Jaskier walked in front of the fireplace, stretching his arms out and warming his fingers up. 

With an arm behind his head, Geralt watched him out of the corner of his eye. Jaskier was oddly quiet, and he could sense something was off in the way he behaved, but his smell was starting to intoxicate him again, and he had to take deep breaths to stop the heat spreading in his chest. 

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Geralt asked, fully turning his head towards the bard. 

Jaskier deeply inhaled before placing his lute on the table, away from the fire and walking up to the bed. “Scoot a little.” 

Geralt made room for him, and for as much as he hated the way his body was acting up, he could barely fight the sense of relief washing over him. Having Jaskier so close had a weird effect on his senses, it overwhelmed them with its smell, but it also eased the uncomfortableness in his chest, giving him a place he could belong to. The sharper senses amplified the sensation, making him crave for more of it, but at the same time, they messed with his bodily functions. 

As it had happened the two previous nights, Geralt’s gut started to tighten, and his groin grew uncomfortably. He turned on his side, easing his breathing, but with each puff of air, Jaskier’s fragrance filled his lungs more and more, sweet and achingly close. He shut his eyes, shifting around to find a better position, but nothing changed, the only thing that could have made any sort of difference was shoving two corks up his nose. 

The bed creaked as he moved, shifting closer to the edge to get away from Jaskier. The sound echoed in the quiet of the night, only the fire crackling could be heard in the room, and Jaskier’s own breathing told Geralt he was still awake. The realisation only made things worse, every single one of his senses zoned in on the bard next to him, trying to decipher even the speed of his heartbeat. 

It was ridiculous, he had to go away from the room, to escape the heat and desire if he didn’t want to spend another sleepless night, but his body refused to move, refused to go somewhere where Jaskier wasn’t. 

Geralt inadvertently groaned, and this time Jaskier didn’t stay quiet. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he exclaimed. “Are the bugs biting your ass?” 

“It’s nothing,” Geralt grunted. 

“Then stay still, I’m trying to sleep.” 

Geralt huffed. Jaskier was trying to sleep, but what about him? How was he supposed to sleep in that situation? 

“What? What are you scoffing for?” Jaskier asked, annoyed. “You’re the one that insisted on sharing a room.” 

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Excuse you?” Jaskier shifted on the bed until he was facing Geralt completely. 

Geralt closed his eyes as another wave of Jaskier’s scent enveloped him at the movement. “It’s your smell.” 

“You don’t smell like roses either, just so you know.” 

“It’s driving me insane,” Geralt confessed, unable to keep his mouth from running. “I can tell you’re pissed, but also aroused, and that’s just messing with me, as it has done these past two nights.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Geralt opened his eyes to look at Jaskier. There was confusion on the bard’s face, but also guilt and the painful awareness of having been caught red-handed. 

“Fuck,” Geralt groaned, curling into a ball. 

“What’s happening, Geralt? Are you feeling ill?” 

Jaskier moved closer, placing his hands on Geralt’s bicep to turn him around. The touch burnt Geralt’s skin, cock twitching with desire. 

“Why are you hard?” Jaskier exclaimed. 

Geralt whipped his head towards him only to find him mere inches away from his face, leaning over him so that he could clearly see the semi Geralt was sporting. 

“It’s nothing,” Geralt grumbled. 

“It clearly isn’t nothing.” Jaskier shook him. “Is this why you kept going away during the night these past few days?” 

Geralt groaned, but his willpower was diminishing with Jaskier so close. “Yes,” he gave in. “It’s the fucking potions and your sickly sweet scent doing this.” 

“My scent?” 

Geralt nodded as another wave of arousal coursed through his body. “I need to go,” he said. He couldn’t stay there anymore, he was about to explode, and Jaskier didn’t need to see him in that state. 

“No, wait,” Jaskier stopped him, both hands clinging onto Geralt’s arm. “I can help?” 

Geralt bore his eyes in Jaskier’s, incredulous and confused. Jaskier held his gaze while biting his bottom lip. His scent had changed, the previous anger seemed to have decreased, replaced by something sweeter than ever and that made Geralt dizzy with desire. 

“Weren’t you pissed earlier?” the witcher asked. 

“I was and I still am, and mostly at myself, but I know I’ll regret it later if I let you go now.” 

Geralt rested on his elbow, closely watching Jaskier’s face, but he could only see determination and hope in it. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Yeah, why am I? I guess the potions didn’t boost your intelligence.” Jaskier scoffed. “We can talk about it later if ever, just unbuckle yourself now.” 

Geralt frowned, but Jaskier didn’t say anything else, just stood from the bed to rummage through his bag and came back with a vial in his hands. 

“I have my needs too,” he explained. 

Geralt didn’t want to know what that meant, he just stared at the bard for what felt like an eternity, hesitant and puzzled by the turn of events, but he didn’t waste any more time when Jaskier motioned for him to get closer. The bard lay down again on the bed and Geralt climbed on top of him, and that was when every last piece of resistance Geralt’s mind might have had got broken by his instincts. 

He pressed his nose against Jaskier’s neck, inhaling deeply and growling at the strong scent. His cock twitched, hard in the confines of his trousers, wanting and desperate. Geralt rutted his hips against Jaskier’s, earning a moan from the bard, and then licked a stripe up Jaskier’s neck. He lapped at the skin, a delicious taste spreading in his mouth until he couldn’t hold back any longer and sunk his teeth in Jaskier. 

The bard yelped, clutching his hands around the back of Geralt’s armour and head digging into the pillow. His hips bucked forward, meeting Geralt’s hard cock, and the witcher groaned at the sharp pleasure starting from his groin. He moved to another part of Jaskier’s neck and bit down hard again, doing it over and over again while he ground on the willing bard. The scent there was stronger and so intoxicating he felt high on it. 

Jaskier whimpered under his ministrations and mindlessly rutted his hips against Geralt’s. He was hard too, Geralt could feel him against himself, needy and desperate, hands tight around his armour, his hair, his neck, Jaskier was holding onto anything he could reach, encouraging Geralt and silently begging him for more. 

Geralt sucked another red patch on Jaskier’s neck, creating a line going from one side of his jugular to the other. He couldn’t get enough of the taste on his tongue, the usual sweetness mixing with the saltiness of the sweat starting to form on the bard’s skin that made his scent even stronger. He groaned again when their hips met, grinding down harder on Jaskier. 

“Geralt,” the bard whined, fumbling with the strings of their trousers. “Get these off, now.” 

Geralt raised his head just enough to see the fucked out expression on Jaskier’s face and the pretty signs of his presence on his skin. He had created a necklace of pearl-sized marks, red and shiny, perfectly complementing Jaskier’s complexion. A growl came from the back of his throat at the sight, and he was about to go back to work when Jaskier placed a hand on his chest to stop him. 

“Too many clothes,” he explained. 

Geralt stared at him for a second before nodding once. Less clothes meant more skin for his teeth and a stronger fragrance. 

They quickly removed their clothes, haphazardly throwing them on the floor before Geralt settled between Jaskier’s legs again. He kissed his chest and nipples, flicking his tongue over the pink buds and closing his teeth around them. Jaskier moaned, back arching off the bed and against Geralt’s mouth. Geralt paid particular attention to his chest, making sure to run his tongue over every inch of it before moving south. 

His cock twitched when he reached the hairs on Jaskier’s lower abdomen. The bard’s scent was stronger there, so much more pungent that he felt dizzy as if he had just drunk all the wine and beer at the inn. He licked down his crotch, nuzzling his hair, and lowly groaned as he deeply inhaled. This was what had driven him insane the past two nights, the scent of desire that had been oozing from Jaskier and that he could now feel to his heart’s content. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whimpered, burying his hands in Geralt’s white hair. 

He sounded already so far gone, cock red and leaking in front of Geralt. The witcher’s tongue darted out to lick away the precum oozing from the tip, the bitter taste spreading in his mouth turning into a sweet nectar. Craving for more of that feeling, Geralt wrapped his lips around Jaskier’s cock, sucking the head before moving further down. 

Jaskier’s grip on his hair tightened while loud moans left his mouth. Both only served to spur Geralt on. He swirled his tongue around the bard’s length, sucking and licking it, often going back to the tip where more pearly liquid kept forming. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was about that taste, that smell, that hit the most primordial parts of his body, but there was something about Jaskier and his scent that ticked him off like no one had ever done before. 

He groaned around Jaskier, fingers digging in his hips as he bobbed his head. Jaskier was gasping, clearly fighting for air, using Geralt’s hair as a lifeline, but the witcher’s tongue never stopped working on him, coating his entire cock in spit and wiping away every bit of precum. Geralt had to use more of his force to keep him on the bed, he was squirming so much his cock often hit the back of his throat, hips trying to fuck into his mouth every time he swallowed around him. 

Geralt knew Jaskier was close, that he needed just a little extra push to tip over the edge, but he didn’t expect Jaskier to come without warning him. Cum filled his mouth as Jaskier’s high-pitched moan echoed in the room, and the sweetest of tastes flooded Geralt’s throat. He swallowed every bit of Jaskier’s come, humming around him in pleasure as the bard emptied himself in his mouth. 

When Jaskier was soft again, Geralt pulled back, licking his cock from the last drops of cum left on his tip. Jaskier whimpered, overstimulated, but didn’t speak as Geralt moved up to his face. 

“You taste so fucking good,” he growled, nuzzling Jaskier’s neck. “And your smell…” Geralt took a deep breath. “Fuck, it’s intoxicating.” 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined as Geralt pressed his hard cock on his leg. “I want you… I-I need you inside, please.” 

Geralt bit down on his neck with a feral growl echoing in his throat. He wanted more of Jaskier too, his whole body was still burning with desire, his skin feverish for the lust running in his veins. 

He traced Jaskier’s figure with his nose and settled between his legs again. He ran his tongue on the sensitive skin of his thighs and bit down on it, leaving yet another red mark. Jaskier cried out loud, the sound music to Geralt’s ears, and the witcher didn’t hesitate before marking his lover again. The urge to leave his presence everywhere on Jaskier’s body was rapidly taking over him, and bite after bite, he made sure to create other patterns to complement the ones around his neck. 

“Fuck, Geralt, hurry up,” Jaskier whimpered, squirming on the bed. “Weren’t you about to die from blue balls? What has changed now?” 

“Your scent.” 

“Again with this,” Jaskier groaned when Geralt’s teeth sunk into his skin once more. “You can sniff me later, now just get on with it.” 

Jaskier blindly groped the bed until he found the vial of oil he had brought out and tossed it at Geralt. The witcher glanced at the object and then at Jaskier, hard again, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes closed as he lost himself in the pleasure of the moment, and Geralt couldn’t hold back anymore. His own cock had been oozing precum on the sheets for the past minutes, making its presence known more and more as time passed and he didn’t do anything about it. 

Geralt pushed Jaskier’s knees up, almost bending the bard in half while he pressed his face between his cheeks. Jaskier yelped in surprise before loudly moaning, fingers curling around the bed sheets. His scent and taste were overwhelming Geralt once more, filling his mouth every time he pressed his tongue against Jaskier’s entrance and delved inside, eating him up like a starved man. 

Only when he himself was at his limit and Jaskier had started begging for release did Geralt open the vial. A delicate scent of chamomile immediately exuded in the room, stopping Geralt in his tracks. Flashbacks of moments spent together in a bath came rushing through his mind, domestic events with Jaskier replaced the lustful heat with a gentle warmth, spreading through his chest like a fire in a dry forest. 

He had refused to acknowledge the feeling since the beginning, but he couldn’t hide anymore as all those images flooded his mind at the sole smell of something as simple and peaceful as chamomile. 

He launched forward, capturing Jaskier’s lips in a desperate kiss. Jaskier groaned at first but immediately melted into the touch, clinging onto Geralt’s back with the same need, the same eagerness as the witcher, and if that hadn’t been enough to understand his feelings, the way his scent changed certainly did. A tender undertone made its way past all the lust, mixing with the chamomile and playing tricks with Geralt’s heart more than anything ever had. 

When their lips parted, Geralt quickly worked Jaskier open. His fingers were almost trembling with desire as he pressed them inside Jaskier’s hole, and his lips definitely restless as they kissed and marked every inch of the bard’s body they could reach. Jaskier was even more impatient than before, moaning and pleading under Geralt’s touch, hips meeting Geralt’s fingers while his hard cock bounced between his legs. 

Once Geralt finally removed his fingers, they were both at their limit. He held Jaskier’s waist as he lined himself up, briefly meeting Jaskier’s fucked out eyes before pushing inside. He had to use all his willpower not to come the second his tip slid inside. Jaskier was so warm and tight, so perfect for him that it was melting away the last bits of rationality left in him. 

He lowly growled as he thrust all the way inside, stopping only when he couldn’t go any deeper. Jaskier was clenching around him, making it even harder to hold back, his face an accurate portrait of pleasure. His lips were parted as he moaned and sighed, mumbling Geralt’s name as if that was the only thing he could remember. With his eyes closed, he was abandoning himself to the lust of the moment, trusting Geralt would know how to take care of him. 

Geralt could only capture his lips in a deep kiss at that faith. Jaskier groaned when their tongues met, gliding on each other and meeting over and over again. No matter how many times he tasted him, Geralt was still overwhelmed by the sweetness invading his mouth. He chased Jaskier’s tongue around and licked everywhere he could reach, more heat coiling in his belly at the sensation. 

He was moving his hips before he realised it, orgasm already so close he couldn’t stay still. He moved away from Jaskier’s face and while holding his lover’s hips, he started thrusting into him with abandon, pushing always deeper inside in a desperate need for more. Jaskier threw his head on the pillow, knuckles white as he clutched the bed sheets. 

Geralt could admire the wonderful marks on Jaskier’s neck now in full display, and he groaned with pride. His thrusts got even more frantic, pushing Jaskier against the headboard every time he hit deep inside him, desperately chasing his release. He pressed his face on Jaskier’s neck again and found new spots to leave his mark on. Jaskier groaned while he buried his hands in Geralt’s hair, his melodic voice filling the room. 

“Geralt,” he cried out. “I’m…”

He didn’t have the strength to finish the sentence as Geralt thrust harder inside and he clenched around him before his voice broke. He came all over their chests, white spurts mixing with the sweat on their skin and hole tightening so much that Geralt’s hips stuttered. He still managed to fuck him through his release, but as he spastically twitched around him, Geralt couldn’t fight it anymore, and emptied himself inside of Jaskier, nose pressed against his neck. 

Sated more than when he had jerked himself off, Geralt was ready to pull out and hold Jaskier in his arms, but as he tried to move, he realised his cock had swollen, locking him inside Jaskier’s ass. He tried to pull back harder, but his length wouldn’t move and Jaskier painfully whimpered, so he stopped his movements. 

“What’s happening?” Jaskier asked, peering his eyes open and panting. “You’re bigger.” 

“It must be the potions,” Geralt groaned. It was the only reason for this. “I’m going to kill Yennefer next time I see her.” 

“Feels good,” Jaskier mumbled, pushing his hips downwards. 

Geralt had to admit it felt divine for him too, so he sat back on the bed and pulled Jaskier on his lap. The bard sunk deeper on his knot, making them both moan and then wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, fingers playing with his white hair. 

“So, these potions are really doing a number on you,” he said. 

“You can say so,” Geralt replied, struggling not to press his face against Jaskier’s skin again. 

“Yennefer didn’t tell you about the side effects when she gave them to you?” 

Geralt scoffed. “Of course she didn’t. She just said something about using ingredients from werewolves, but she certainly didn’t warn me about this,” he said, rutting his hips. 

“Gods, she could sell this as a love potion,” Jaskier moaned, clenching around him. 

“Maybe, but I sure am not going to take it anymore.” 

“Good thing I was around,” Jaskier tried to joke, but there was clear hesitance in his voice. 

Geralt grunted, definitely disagreeing with the bard. “I wish you hadn’t been.” 

“Oh.” Jaskier’s face dropped, and his tone spoke of hurt and disappointment. 

Geralt was taken aback by the unusual silence before realising what he had just said. “That’s not what I meant, fuck.” 

Jaskier hummed but refused to meet his gaze, hands falling on his sides. 

“The potions didn’t have this side effect at first,” Geralt quickly said. “I had been walking around half the town with them in my system before we met the other day and nothing had happened, but when we crossed paths my body started to act up like this. The second I smelled your scent, I couldn’t think about anything else, you smell so fucking good. Even earlier at dinner, everyone else smelled like shit compared to you.” 

Jaskier side-eyed him, brows furrowed. “How is this supposed to make me feel any better? Those people at dinner probably hadn’t seen water or soap in months, of course they smelled like shit. Quite literally since they work in stables and fields.” 

“Stop twisting my words, Jaskier.” 

“I’m not twisting your words, you just aren’t clear enough.” 

Jaskier finally met his gaze, a glint of mischief in his eyes. 

“Of course, I should have known it was going to end up this way,” Geralt scoffed. 

He pressed his nose against Jaskier’s neck, and a deep rumble echoed from his chest as he deeply inhaled. Jaskier shuddered, twitching around him, but Geralt didn’t speak yet, he grazed his teeth along Jaskier’s skin, nibbling at his jugular and licking the old marks. Jaskier sighed, hands once more buried in Geralt’s hair, holding him in place. Geralt smirked, running his tongue up Jaskier’s neck and biting his earlobe. 

“No one has ever smelled this good,” he groaned. “Not even Yennefer, just you, and it was driving me insane even before taking the potions. I suppose those helped, but they didn’t tell me anything new.” 

“Fuck, Geralt,” Jaskier lowly moaned. “Why haven’t you told me this before?” 

“Why should I have?” Geralt pressed a kiss behind Jaskier’s ear. 

Jaskier clenched around him, fingers curling around his hair. “You should know why.” 

“I don’t.” Geralt left another mark on his neck. “You seemed pretty happy to share a room with your friend earlier.” 

“I was mad.” 

“Why?” 

Jaskier groaned when Geralt bit down on his shoulder. “I was mad at myself for being so foolish.” 

Geralt’s hands roamed Jaskier’s back, caressing the smooth skin while he pressed more kisses on his neck. “Why were you foolish?” 

Jaskier silently moaned, hiding his face in Geralt’s hair for a few moments before he whispered, “Because I’m in love with you.” 

A low growl resounded in the room while Geralt sunk his teeth in Jaskier’s shoulder, body lighting on fire again. His chest swelled, a deep hunger starting in it again, a wild craving for Jaskier’s body, but also for more, for a connection between souls, for someone willing to accept him, inhuman mutations and all. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier whined. He was holding the witcher impossibly close to his body, clinging onto him, and refusing to let him go. His scent had overtaken the room again, sweet and lustful, but this time something else was in it, something tender and careful, scared even, but so honest and hopeful that Geralt’s chest overflooded with affection. 

“Jaskier,” the witcher groaned, and unable to hold back any longer, he pressed Jaskier against the mattress again. 

His knot had finally deflated, and they were both hard again. He set a fast pace right from the start, hitting Jaskier’s prostate every time, drawing moan after moan from the bard. Their lips met in a yearning kiss, tongues searching each other and breaths mingling in between whispered praises. Geralt wasn’t thinking straight anymore, all he could focus on were the whimpers coming from Jaskier, the way his body morphed at his touch, and the loving scent infiltrating his body. 

It didn’t take long before they were coming again, moaning and panting, both too far gone to even think about holding back. They reached their orgasm as their eyes met, blown wide and full of each other, mouths meeting in a final relieved kiss. 

As he lay in bed afterwards, cleaned up and finally at ease, Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s sleeping figure. The bard hummed as their bodies pressed close and their legs intertwined, a comfortable smell coming from him, and as he buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck, relief lulled Geralt to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Needless to say, the next morning Geralt wakes up and is unable to shut his mouth, much to Jaskier's enjoyment hehe  
> Once more, happy birthday, Bean!!! <333  
> [ Tumblr ](https://geraskier-hell.tumblr.com/)


End file.
